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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29611530">Drawings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/intellexual_asexual/pseuds/intellexual_asexual'>intellexual_asexual</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ego Short Stories [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>CrankGameplays - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AND THEN IT DID IT AGAIN!! AND AGAIN!!, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood and Injury, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, and i tried to convey that as much as possible because shit neither do i dkfgjfhs, brace yourselves because theres a lot, but hes surprisingly good at patching up wounds, ig even though it's mainly mike crying all over blank kjfdghskljfh, it disappeared!! exactly like my dad ten years ago!!, literally i slaved away for like fours hours on this and then poof!, mike doesnt know how the fuck to handle this situation at first, no beta we die like actor mark, oh wait fuck yeah lkjglslfghj, ok ok now for the ranting ones because i FUCKING HATE my internet, uh oh here come the warning tags</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:42:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29611530</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/intellexual_asexual/pseuds/intellexual_asexual</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the Cranks discovers Blank's... hobby.</p><p>Original prompt: "You had to have seen this coming: the rest of the Cranks finding out abt Blank’s self harming? Protective fluff, maybe?"<br/>Requested by: Infy</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ego Short Stories [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106381</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Drawings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Fuck living rural, all my homies hate living rural. My internet cut out three times while writing this and another request I was working on, so all of my writing was deleted three times over. Anyway enjoy! And stay tuned for like four chapters of my chatfic work! Since I've been dead again for a few days!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mad Mike wasn’t the most patient Crank. And he certainly wasn’t the most calm out of the egos. But God dammit, he’d try to be if it meant helping BlankGamePlays.</p><p> </p><p>It had started when Mike was walking past Blank’s room, whistling to himself on the way to the kitchen. He heard something that sounded… bad. The whimpering didn’t seem entirely out of character for Blank, but Mike had never heard him do that before.</p><p> </p><p>Mike stopped in front of Blank’s bedroom door and knocked. The noise stopped as Mike asked, “Hey, Blank? I’m heading into the kitchen, do you want anything? Maybe one of Gran’s brownies?”</p><p> </p><p>Blank didn’t answer Mike. He found this strange, as Blank usually gave him a one-word answer. “Um, maybe, uh… knock once for yes, and twice for no!”</p><p> </p><p>Mike still didn’t get a response. It was now deathly quiet inside Blank’s room, and Mike wasn’t having any of it. “OK, well, I’m gonna teleport into your room in three, two, one—”</p><p> </p><p>“—there! Now you have t-to… to answer me...”</p><p> </p><p>Mike’s smile faltered and disappeared as he looked around Blank’s room. His walls were almost entirely black now instead of a deep navy blue, and the carpet had black spots, too. Blank was on his bed, curled in on himself and crying. That didn’t stop Mike from seeing the hundreds of cuts lining Blank’s exposed arms, and the black blood that flowed through the fresh ones.</p><p> </p><p>The fresh ones… how long had Blank kept this a secret? How long had Blank been hiding this from his family? How long had he suffered without anyone knowing? </p><p> </p><p>Mike didn’t know what to do. What to say, where to be, how to act. What did normal people do in a situation like this? Call an ambulance? Plead with the person?</p><p> </p><p>Mike settled for asking Blank a question. He dreaded the answer. “What are you doing?”</p><p> </p><p>“...”</p><p> </p><p>“...”</p><p> </p><p>“...d-drawing...”</p><p> </p><p>Mike was devastated. ...Drawing. Blank was drawing. On himself. He’d been drawing for God knows how long, and Mike didn’t know how to tell him to stop.</p><p> </p><p>Blank’s medium was a pair of scissors, apparent as they were still in his hands and covered in blood. Mike hesitantly walked in front of Blank and gently took them from him. Blank didn’t try to stop him. Instead, Blank sobbed and put his head between his knees, his tears dripping onto his bed and getting lost in the pile of blood he was sitting in.</p><p> </p><p>Mike still didn’t know what to do at this point. He was never one for comforting people. All he knew was that he was very, very upset at the scene before him.</p><p> </p><p>Mike quietly sat beside Blank and put a hand on his back, deciding to ignore the way he flinched from the contact. He started moving his hand in small circles. He saw this in a movie once, it should work, right?</p><p> </p><p>Mike thought it did the exact opposite as Blank let out another sob and cried harder. He didn’t stop, though, because he couldn’t think of anything else that could possibly comfort Blank.</p><p> </p><p>“...why w-won’t I-I die?”</p><p> </p><p>It had been several minutes since Blank last said something, and Mike did not like how he broke the silence. He wanted to say something, anything, to tell Blank that he shouldn’t be thinking like that, but he found that he couldn’t. Mike just cried as Blank sniffed and looked up at him.</p><p> </p><p>“I-I’ve tried e-everything. N-Nothing works. It hurts. It all hurts. I’m tired. I-I just wanna go t-to sleep...”</p><p> </p><p>Mike hated how Blank said that. He sounded desperate. </p><p> </p><p>He suddenly wrapped Blank in a hug. Not too tight, since his arms were still in front of him. Mike couldn’t tell you why. Maybe it was on instinct.</p><p> </p><p>Mike rested his head on top of Blank’s and cried. He cried and cried because he couldn’t think of anything else to do. He didn’t notice that Blank was crying again.</p><p> </p><p>Mike didn’t know how long it was before he remembered that Blank was bleeding out and needed medical attention. He pulled off of Blank and looked him in the eyes. “Blank. ...do you want me to tell the others?”</p><p> </p><p>Blank’s eyes went wide as he shook his head and started whispering “no!” repeatedly. Mike put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down again. He probably <em>should</em> tell the rest of the Cranks about this, but… he has a feeling that they’d be even worse at handling this than him.</p><p> </p><p>“I won’t, but you have to promise that you won’t do this again. Ever. Promise me, Blank.”</p><p> </p><p>Mike hated waiting, but he forced himself to be patient. It was a while before Blank said, “...I p-promise.”</p><p> </p><p>Mike nodded, and he poofed away toward his specialty room. He allowed himself to panic as he ran around looking for something similar to bandages. Or actual bandages. He was sure he had some in here, just in case, so where were they?!</p><p> </p><p>He spotted a large first aid kit in the very corner. He didn’t remember putting it there, but he was thankful that it was there as it was full to the brim with nothing but gauze wrap, healing ointment, and alcohol wipes.</p><p> </p><p>He poofed back onto Blank’s bed and dumped the supplies behind him. Mike gently grabbed Blank’s hand and took him to his bathroom. He didn’t look at Blank’s face as he rinsed away the blood soaking his arms.</p><p> </p><p>Mike cried the entire time he was using the alcohol wipes, saying “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Blank,” every tenth of a second.</p><p> </p><p>Blank didn’t speak throughout the entire procedure, only making noise when Mike wiped a particularly open spot with the ointment. Mike had finished wrapping Blank’s left arm in gauze when he finally said something.</p><p> </p><p>“...I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>Mike hated himself. He hadn’t meant for his question to come off as accusatory. It was too late to elaborate, though.</p><p> </p><p>“...I worried you. I-I bothered you and made y-you do this and for what? I—”</p><p> </p><p>“No you didn’t.” Mike knew what to say now as he started wrapping Blank’s other arm. “You didn’t make me do this, Blank, and you didn’t bother me. I’m doing this because I care about you. We all care about you, and we hate seeing you like this. Just… please don’t let it get this bad again. It looks like i-it’s happened before a-and I don’t like th-that. C-Can you c-come to one o-of us if y-you feel like th-this again? P-Please?”</p><p> </p><p>Mike stopped wrapping Blank’s arm to wipe his face, and he looked Blank in the eyes. Mike noticed that his tears are almost identical to his blood.</p><p> </p><p>“...yeah. I can.”</p><p> </p><p>Mike finished wrapping Blank’s arm and gave him another hug. He cried and clung to Blank like he was going to disappear, and Blank didn’t object. They stayed that way for a while.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>~ ꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤ ~</b>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Mike left Blank’s room only after making sure there weren’t any sharp objects in his room. Even his pencils had been taken away. Mike didn’t want Blank to draw again for a while. </p><p> </p><p>At least he left him with some crayons. Mike wasn’t <em> heartless </em>, he was just taking precautions.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t realize how late in the day it was when he first found Blank… like that. As he walked out of Blank’s room and toward the kitchen, he realized that it was dark outside. A quick glance at the microwave told Mike that it was past eleven o’clock at night. His sleep schedule could be sacrificed for Blank.</p><p> </p><p>Mike searched for a bag of chocolate chips and found one. It was open and only half full but he didn’t care. He was probably the one who opened them in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>He was about to turn around and leave the kitchen with his snack when Mrs. Thomson addressed him. “I’m proud of you, sweetie.”</p><p> </p><p>He almost choked on his chips, whipping around and spotting the old lady. She could be an assassin with how often she quietly sneaks up on the Cranks.</p><p> </p><p>“Um, what for?”</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Thomson smiled. “For helping Blank. It was scary, but you managed to keep calm and take care of him.”</p><p> </p><p>Mike honestly did not know what to say to that. “You… you <em> knew </em> about that? About Blank? Gran, are you <em> fuc—?! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Thomson hung her head. “I know, sweetie. I know. I should have told one of you. But I didn’t want to overwhelm them. Or Blank, because he didn’t know that I knew. I’m sorry, dear.”</p><p> </p><p>Mike took a deep breath. He didn’t want to scream and wake up the others. “I get it, I guess. He trusts you and you didn’t want to break that trust. Sorry for trying to yell at you, Gran.”</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Thomson stood up straight again. “It’s alright. Now put those away and get to bed, you know that’s not healthy for you!”</p><p> </p><p>Mike sighed. “Yes, Gran.”</p><p> </p><p>Mike put the chocolate chips back and left the kitchen. He was already in his bedroom by the time Mrs. Thomson had grabbed them and headed toward Blank’s room.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was kind of awkwardly ended but I am too tired to change it sorry jksgksfh.<br/>As always, make sure to leave a comment if you liked this work, and don't be afraid to request another!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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